Memoirs of Madness
by KingZeroZephyr
Summary: Walter Sullivan is known in the Silent Hill universe for his grotesque actions and twisted logic. However, much like other insane individuals, he did not see himself as crazy. This is his story, told from his perspective, as though he wrote his own memoir.
1. Prologue

"Walter, this is Ms. Dahlia Gillespie. She very much wanted to meet you."

I was six-years-old at the time. I clutched tightly to the Red Priest's hand as I looked at the formidable lady that stood in front of me. I hid my face behind his arm. Usually, he scared me as well, but at least I knew him. Why was this Gillespie lady here at the Wish House? Why did she want to meet _me_? Why not one of the other kids?

I peeked my eye out from behind the Red Priest's arm. Ms. Gillespie kneeled down to my eye level. She smiled a knowing sort of smile at me. "Hello, Walter," she said, "I'm pleased to meet you."

I built up the courage and extended my hand to shake hers, whilst the other hand slightly loosened its grip on that of the Red Priest's.

"There," she said as she shook my tiny, trembling hand, "you see? I'm not so bad, am I?"

"Uh-uh." My voice trembled.

She gave me one final smile before standing up again. Her face completely shifted to its original, cold expression. "Father Stone, I need to speak with you outside."

The Red Priest let go of my hand. Actually, it was more like he tossed my hand away. He and Ms. Gillespie went outside the small classroom and shut the door so I couldn't listen. I looked about me and was stricken with loneliness. But this wasn't just any loneliness. It felt like an eerily familiar loneliness, being left by myself in that room. I felt a chill go up my spine at this thought, but immediately shook it out of my head when I heard their voices raise outside.

I was only able to catch a few words here and there. I heard the Red Priest say someone's name. It sounded like "Alyssa." Then I heard Ms. Gillespie say the words "dead," and "worthless," but I couldn't hear anything in between. What were they talking about? How did it have anything to do with me?

I heard the doorknob start to turn and I jumped, startled out of my eavesdropping. Ms. Gillespie walked in as the Red Priest held the door open. A flash of panic went through my head as I saw him shutting the door behind her. I thought, _are you really going to leave me in here alone with her?!_

This time, she made no attempt to smile. "Walter, you must be wondering why I'm here to see you?"

I nodded my head, and I tried my best not to show how much she scared me.

"Well, Walter, I have something very important to tell you. We found your mother."

I went numb. My heart leapt with joy, but my head was having trouble believing her.

"Where is she?" I suddenly found my voice. I realized, at that moment, that she was nothing to fear. She wanted to help me. To reunite me with my mom. I decided that I liked her, after all. She was definitely nicer than the other adults here.

"She is asleep. In a place called Ashfield. I will show you where she is."

"OK! I'll get my jacket, and..."

"No!" I suddenly felt as though someone had crushed my spirit. I knew she was a nice lady, so I didn't understand why she would tell me that she could take me to my mom, and then tell me that she wouldn't. Maybe my mom didn't want to see me? Maybe Ms. Gillespie was just trying to protect me from that pain?

She noticed that my face grew sad. "No, Walter... You misunderstand me. I will not be able to take you to see her _today_. However, I will come back in two days to get you. Then I will take you to her." I immediately perked up.

Those next two days were excruciating to wait through. I really didn't get along with the other kids, so I couldn't go talk to any of them about my excitement. My mom. In the flesh. Right in front of me! I wondered if she would recognize me. Would she hug me?

The day came, and I was up especially early. I wanted to be able to leave as soon as Ms. Gillespie arrived. I combed my hair, and I put on my clip-on tie. I wanted my mom to be proud when she saw me.

Ms. Gillespie took me by the hand and walked me to the bus stop. It was about an hour long bus ride. From there, we transferred to a train in the South Ashfield Station, with which the ride was only about five minutes long. When we got off the train, we had to walk five blocks. I was both tired and filled with energy at the same time!

As we walked up to the apartment building in South Ashfield Heights, I could hardly contain my excitement. When we went in, Ms. Gillespie was having a hard time keeping up with me as I rushed up the stairs, although she was holding my hand.

"Can you please _walk_ the rest of the way, Walter?" she grunted when we reached the floor. I noticed she was out of breath. "Sorry, Ms. Gillespie." She nodded in a somewhat irate sort of way.

We walked up to a door. Door 302. I was grinning from ear-to-ear. I waited for Ms. Gillespie to knock. She didn't budge. "Ms. Gillespie?"

She didn't look down at me. She kept looking at the door as she responded. "This is your mother, Walter. Her spirit is in this room." At first, I was confused. How could this room be my mom? But the more I thought about it, the less it made sense that she might lie to me. I was filled with joy, and did my best to hug the door. I gave it a kiss, then looked up at Ms. Gillespie.

"I'm not going to be able to stay with her, am I?"

"No, Walter. You see, her soul is troubled. She could not possibly take care of you in this state. She needs you. And there is someone living in this room, further preventing you from being with her. Would you do anything for her? Would you do anything to be with her again?"

"YES! What do I have to do?"

Ms. Gillespie put her hand forward and took mine. As we walked away, I turned and said, "Goodbye, mommy. Don't worry, I'll see you soon!" I looked back up at Ms. Gillespie. "Won't I?"

"Yes. But not right now. We will let you know when the time comes."

As we started to make the turn to get to the stairs, I took one last look behind me at my mom. I was stricken with that same, eerie feeling of loneliness I had had two days earlier. I shook it off and supposed that it was just my feeling lonely about leaving my mom.

A week later, I had a strange nightmare. One of the other priests, Father George Rosten, was there, and he was chanting something in gibberish. I was strapped onto a large, slanted table. He walked over to me with a knife and cut my left arm. I screamed and cried in pain, and fought to get out of my restraints. He walked back to the table where he had his weird tools. I noticed a strange creature on the ceiling. It looked almost like a deformed, bald man. Except, as it inched closer, I could see that it was wearing some sort of flesh-toned leather, which tied in the back, that covered its entire body. Where its forehead should have been, there was the same symbol that was sewn onto the Priests' clothing. Its head twitched back and forth, and to and fro with such a freakish speed that I wasn't sure whether it frightened me more or less than it was making me feel sick.

I started crying as it slowly crawled up to me. I desperately tried to break free. This all felt so very real. I tried yelling at myself to wake up, but that didn't work. I looked at Father Rosten and begged him to save me, but he kept his back to me during the whole nightmare. The creature crawled onto the table, its head became still. Its eyes were covered by the leather bodysuit, but I knew he was looking at me, my face only an inch or two away from where its face should have been.

With one of its gloved hands, it reached deep into my wound, then lunged into the cut on my arm. I screamed and cried louder. Calling for help. Feeling desperate. I silently wished I had made friends at the Wish House, because maybe someone might have cared enough to rescue me. The creature completely entered my body, and then the nightmare went black.

I woke up the next morning in a cold sweat, tears accompanying the perspiration on my face. I was so glad the nightmare was over. I put my left hand up to wipe the sweat off of my forehead, and I noticed red on my arm. I was startled by it and looked. I had a cut on my arm, just like the one I had in my nightmare. I decided that it must have happened while I was asleep, and looked about me to see if I could figure out how I had gotten it. I couldn't figure how, but I told myself that this is why I had the nightmare.

After I got changed, I made my bed and went to eat breakfast with the other kids before my daily scripture readings.


	2. Chapter 1: Normalcy

The alarm went off. I groggily looked at the clock as I hit the snooze button. _6:15 in the AM already?_ I thought to myself as I tried to sit up. My math class would be starting at 7:30AM. I had been having a difficult time getting up lately.

I was eighteen-years-old, and just started to attend Pleasant River University. The town of Pleasant River was located very close to Silent Hill, where my friend Dahlia Gillespie lived. I had gone there the night before with my roommate, Bobby Randolph, and his two close friends, Sein Martin and Jasper Gein. We went to Lake Side Amusement Park, and I saw Cynthia there. Cynthia Velasquez was a girl I met while making one of my many visits to see my mother. She was beautiful, but I was always too shy to initiate a conversation with her. What she was doing in Silent Hill, I didn't know, but I was happy to see her again. She didn't notice me, though. She was with a group of her friends.

I went over to one of the carnival games and I won a stuffed doll of Robbie the Rabbit, the Amusement Park's mascot. I intended to give it to her when I next ran into her on this night. When she first met me, I had been homeless. That was about a year and a half prior to this night. I was alone, waiting for a train in the South Ashfield Station. I had been doing odd jobs here and there to earn money. She was there with friends. I saw her looking at me and I smiled. She came up to me and asked me if I had the time. My voice shook as I told her that I didn't own a watch. She smiled, then walked back over to her friends. I heard her say to them, "He's filthy... But he's handsome."

"Uh, Sullivan, what are you doing?" Sein asked me after I won the stuffed animal. I didn't answer. I looked around and surveyed the crowd to see if I could find her. "Dude, you're starting to scare us," Bobby chimed in. I chose to tune them out. This would be my moment to finally stop being so shy. I had always been interested in her. And I had seen her a few times since that first encounter. I spotted her in the crowd, and left my companions to talk to her. I walked right up to her, and she looked up at me.

"Yes?" She asked. I seemed to have lost my nerve. There I was, a stupid boy with a stupid expression, holding a pink, plush rabbit.

"Wait, don't I know you from somewhere?"

I smiled. "My name is Walter. Walter Sullivan? We met once in the South Ashfield Station."

"Oh! Yes, I remember now. You definitely look more kept up now than you did then." she said with a laugh.

Her friends snickered. She looked back at them and told them to be quiet. She looked back at me with a sweet smile.

"So, what brings you to Silent Hill tonight, Walter?"

"Well, uh... I, um... I attend PRU, it's in the next town over from here. I'm here with some of my friends from school." I lied. They weren't really friends, but more like people who occupied the empty time slots in my day. "What about you? Isn't Ashfield a little far away?"

"Not really. It's only about an hour's drive. I'm here with some friends for my birthday."

"Oh? Happy birthday..." I trailed off, pretending not to know her name. She had never formally introduced herself to me before, but I knew her name from overhearing her friends that first day we met.

"Cynthia. My name is Cynthia Velasquez. And thank you, Walter."

We looked at each other for a moment. I froze. Cynthia laughed. "Um... So, is that your little friend?"

"What?" I had no idea what she was talking about, and then she pointed at the plush Robbie doll I had clutched in my hand. For the first time during our conversation, I noticed that my grip on Robbie had tightened from my nerves.

"Oh, no... Here, he's for you. Happy birthday, Cynthia."

Her friends laughed again, and again she told them to stop. She looked hesitant to take the stuffed animal from me.

"What? Is there something wrong?"

"It's just that... I don't know how my boyfriend would like me taking gifts from handsome boys."

I felt like I had been stabbed.

"Oh. I see. Well, um... It was good to see you again, anyways."

In silent defeat, I walked away, back toward my three companions.

"What happened, Sullivan?" Bobby asked as he saw the defeated expression I wore. "Nothing. I'm fine." "I have a-a-a-a extra bottle of-f-f-f chocolate milk if you-ou-ou want it," Jasper offered. "That's OK. I just want to get back to the dorm. I forgot, I have a paper to write."

As I left, I threw the stuffed rabbit in a nearby trash bin. I suddenly had a great deal of contempt for that little, pink asshole.

And so, here I was. The next morning. At 6:15, getting up to get to class. I shut the alarm off completely and swung my legs over the side of the bed, inadvertently taking some of the blankets with me. I sat still there for a moment, my head hung. I rubbed my eyes and ran my fingers through my long hair, then looked up and noticed that Bobby wasn't in the room. I was confused for a moment. Bobby should have been waking up for class, as well. He had insisted on registering for this class together so that we could help each other out.

I walked over to my desk and saw that he left a note for me. It read:

_Sullivan,_

_Class was canceled. Professor got sick._

_I'll be back soon. Went with Jasper to get food._

_Randolph_

I huffed at the note and crumpled it before throwing it into my wastebasket. I was embittered toward the world that morning, even more than usual. Everything irritated me. I had no other classes scheduled for that day, so I now found myself free to wallow in my anger.

Two hours passed, and I was lying down, reading scriptures from _The Descent of the Holy Mother_, when I heard a knock at the door.

"Sullivan? Hey, Sully, you in there? It's Bobby. I forgot my key. Could you let us in?"

I begrudgingly left my comfortable position on my bed and shut the book, leaving it on my pillow. I opened the door, and the usual suspects came marching in. Jasper was drinking a bottle of chocolate milk, and carried a brown, paper bag which I assumed contained more of said bottles. Sein had a bagel sticking out of his mouth, and both his hands were being used to carry heavy grocery bags. Bobby put down the bag he was holding and sat down on my bed, picking up the book.

"There's some food in there if you want it," he said, motioning toward the bag he carried in, which now rested beside him on my mattress. "Is this a book from The Order?" he asked a moment later, while he started to flip through it.

I helped Sein with the bags, then turned and grabbed my book out of Bobby's hands.

"Hey, relax Sullivan! I was just asking a question!"

"Yeah, it's from The Order. Why are you guys so obsessed with it? I'm not obsessed with any of _your_ religions."

"None of ours are anywhere near as interesting, Walt," said Sein, talking with his mouth full of half-chewed bagel.

I rolled my eyes and went to sit down at my desk to finish writing my paper.

"Um, that reminds me, dude... We've been meaning to ask you... The other night, you were talking in your sleep about 'sacrifices' and 'sacraments...' Does that have anything to do with this? Or were you just having a weird dream?"

As Bobby spoke, I froze, and sat upright in my chair.

"Wha-a-a-a-t does th-th-th-that mean?" Jasper asked. He was always a little slow and almost childlike.

I figured I'd throw them a bone. They had been relentlessly asking me questions about The Order since the semester started, having browsed through some of my literature when I was in class. Besides, they didn't have to know every detail. They _couldn't_ know every detail. They might have tried to stop me from performing the ritual and, thus, stop me from truly being reunited with my mother.

"According to ancient lore, there are '21 Sacraments.' Sacrifices made to our God. Blood sacrifices."

The three of them echoed each other in a collective, "Whoa!"

"So, like, if you wanted to do it, you just cut yourself or something?" Bobby asked.

"Sure. Something like that. But don't get any ideas."

"Oh!" Sein said suddenly. "I almost forgot... A letter came for you. It has that same seal on it that your book does."

I went numb as I did twelve years earlier when Dahlia Gillespie first told me about my mom. Could this be my notice that it was time to perform the Sacraments? I excitedly took the envelope from Sein's hand and tore it open. I grabbed the letter and unfolded it. The news was not good news.

_Mr. Walter Sullivan,_

_Due to your close attachment to Dahlia Gillespie,_

_we felt that we should inform you that_

_Ms. Gillespie was murdered._

_~Father Jimmy Stone~_

I was numb once more, however it was, this time, from sorrow. Dahlia Gillespie was my only true friend in the world. She was the only one who ever cared about me. She was the only one who always told me the truth. She was always the one rooting for me to be with my mother again. And she was dead. And this letter was very blunt. I found it morbidly fitting that the man to whom his colleagues referred as "The Red Devil," and to whom I had referred as "The Red Priest" when I was a child, was the one to bring me this black news.

I let the letter fall out of my limp hands. Without saying a word, I slowly walked out of my door. I faintly heard my roommate and his friends trying to ask me what was wrong. I ignored them.

I walked. I just kept walking until my legs ached. I sat down on the sidewalk on a random avenue, folded my arms on my knees, and rested my chin over my arms. I stared blankly into the blackness of the street. I felt so alone.

After about an hour, I started to become aware of my surroundings again. I noticed a little girl walking in my direction. She was holding her mother's hand, and in her other arm, she hugged a small doll. I envied her. So loved. So very close to her mother. I was sure that they would just pass me by, leaving me to my masochistic thoughts. But I was wrong. I looked and saw that the little girl was standing next to me.

"Are you OK?" she asked in a sweet, tiny voice. I shook my head. She held out her doll at me.

"I want you to have her. She always cheers _me_ up." I absent-mindedly took the doll. I held it close to me, but never broke eye contact with the girl. I was bewildered that a young kid, a total stranger, would be so kind to me.

"Eileen, come on. We have to get home," her mother called to her. The little girl looked at me one last time and said, "Bye-bye. Feel better." She skipped away from me and took her mother's hand again. After they were completely out of sight, I hugged the doll tightly and wept.

A/N: OK, so we're about to really get into the heart of the story in the next chapter. I'm sorry for the terrible pun, but I couldn't resist :)


	3. Chapter 2: The Heart of Stone

Six years had passed, and I was living on my own in a small place in northern Ashfield. I graduated from PRU with a biology degree. I was twenty-three-years-old, but my twenty-fourth birthday was just around the corner. I was working as a Sales Rep at Ashfield Sporting Goods. At least it paid the bills.

I was beginning to believe that The Order forgot about me. Father Rosten, who was my instructor in the 21 Sacraments, had never contacted me. I often thought that the whole of the Valtiel Sect was crumpling without Dahlia Gillespie.

I walked into work one morning and saw my manager, Rick Albert, at the front checkout counter, sifting through the mail. The bell on the doorframe jingled to alert him of my arrival, and he looked up from the mail.

"Good morning, Walter."

"Morning."

He looked back to the envelopes in his hands. He complained about our electric bill. This was very typical of him.

"Oh," he suddenly yelled to me as I was changing in the back room, "you had a visitor this morning. An old guy was standing outside the store when I came to open up. He asked for you."

I slipped my work shirt on and yelled back, "Did he leave his name?"

"Yeah. He said his name was something like Rosten. I think that's right..."

I nearly poked my finger with the safety pin on my name tag. _Finally, I will be able to reunite with my mother_, I happily thought to myself.

I walked out of the back room and went behind the counter to start counting the money in the register. "Yes, that's right. He's a priest of my sect."

"Oh? I didn't take you much for the religious type, Sullivan. Anyway, he said that he would meet you at your place later. He just wanted to let you know. He said it was very important that I give you the message."

I smiled to myself as I finished setting up the register. "Yes. Thank you."

"When you're done with that, I have a large shipment of golf clubs that need to be put out." With that, Rick went into the back room to make some phone calls.

That afternoon, I got back to my apartment and saw George Rosten waiting at my door. He gave me a smile and said, "Hello, Walter. It's been a while, hasn't it? I trust you've kept up with your scripture readings?"

"Yes. Every day. Just as when I was in your tutelage."

I opened the door and we both entered. Rosten sat down on a decrepit recliner I had in my living room. I locked the door behind us and sat down on my sofa, which was much more in tact than the chair, and was facing the Priest.

"I assume you already know why I'm here, Walter."

"Yes. I do. Is it time?"

Rosten grinned at me. I remembered being fearful of that grin as a child. Now, it was a source of comfort. He folded his hands on his knees and his expression became serious. "Walter, first I would like to tell you that the reason why you had to wait so long is that Father Stone and I felt that you would have failed had you tried when you were younger. We think you are quite capable now."

He got up and walked over to me. He placed his hand on my head and said, "It is time, child. Make your final preparations, and then start your ritual."

He walked to my door, but just before leaving, he turned and said, "Happy birthday, Walter Sullivan."

Two weeks had passed. It was now the night of my birthday. I made every effort to ensure that I was as ready as I would ever be to carry out my task. The first part of my mission required that I take ten hearts. I knew exactly where I was to start.

With my pistol hidden in my trench coat, I travelled back to the place of my upbringing. Despite their giving me the tools to perform my Sacraments, I had always hated the Wish House. As well as its inhabitants.

There was a chapel in the back of the Wish House, where The Red Devil would perform his own, daily rituals. I knew I would find him there. I entered, and he was standing in front of an alter, his back turned to me.

"George, has it been two hours already?"

"It's not Father Rosten. It's me. Walter."

He briefly turned his head and looked at me, then went back to his ritual. "Ah, yes. Come for reflection before you carry out your task, my child?"

"Sure," I said. "Something like that."

I cocked back the lever while the pistol was still in my pocket in an attempt to stifle the noise. If Stone had heard it, he gave no sign. He didn't budge. I slowly walked up to him. Still, he did not move. I put the gun to the back of his head. He immediately straightened his back and put up his hands.

"Walter! What... What is the meaning of this?"

I squeezed the trigger. Blood and brain matter sprayed onto the wall and further spilled onto the alter as he fell over. The sound of his head slamming against the alter almost rivaled that of the gunshot.

I slipped the pistol back into my coat pocket, and grabbed my newly made corpse by his shoulder, throwing him to the floor. He was belly up, the expression he wore on his face was a mixture of fear and shock. I looked on the alter and saw a rather familiar looking knife. I took it, kneeled over the corpse, and carved out his heart.

I pulled a small, wooden box from one of my inner coat pockets and placed the heart inside of it. Once I secured the heart, I cut the numbers "_01/21_" into his flesh. I slipped the knife into the pocket where my pistol rested, and stood up, looking over my first Sacrament. I was very pleased with my work.

As I walked out of the Wish House to make my way over to Pleasant River, a thought crossed my mind which made me laugh uncontrollably for at least two minutes. _I just drew blood from a Stone._

I woke up in a motel the next morning. I had made it to Pleasant River at about midnight after I killed Jimmy Stone. I noticed that a few drops of blood had gotten on my coat. I had taken painstaking care to ensure the least amount of cleanup possible. I must have missed those spots. The lady at the front desk asked if I had hurt myself. I told her that I was an artist and that I had just gotten some paint on me. She believed me and gave me a room key.

I went to the local deli and got myself a breakfast sandwich, and one of those bottles of chocolate milk that Jasper always used to drink. I brought it back to my room, and ate as I planned my night.

After graduation, Bobby and Sein got an apartment, but were currently living together in a duplex in Pleasant River. I always kept them in mind, and tracked their location throughout the years. They were always so curious about The Order. I would now make them a part of my inheritance.

I slept most of the day away, and then ventured out on my mission at around 11PM. I walked the dark, desolate streets and felt as close to peaceful as I had been in years. It was a beautiful night. The stars were bright as could be, the temperature was perfect, and the whole world seemed to stand still.

I looked at the mailboxes just to double check myself on which side of the duplex was theirs. I was right, and proceeded to pick the lock on the left door with my knife. Before I entered, I turned and noticed that Sein's pickup truck was parked in front. I grinned as I continued into the house.

I knew I wanted to start with Bobby, but I wasn't sure which room was his. I noticed that one of the two bedroom doors had a white marker board adhered to it. I read the "To Do" list which was scribbled on it. It read:

_1) Call Amber  
2) Mail Résumé  
3) Get oil changed in The Beast_

After reading the third item on the list, I figured that this was Sein's room. I headed to the next bedroom door, located on the other side of the second floor. I quietly entered. Bobby was fast asleep and drooling on his pillow. I took a moment to look around. I saw a note left on his mirror from a girl named Brittney, saying that she wasn't going to "come over tonight."

Bobby let out a snort, and shifted his position, which caused me to spin around. I walked gently over to the bed. At first, my plan was to shoot him, much like I did to Jimmy Stone. But the quiet put me at ease. I didn't want to disturb it.

I slowly got on the bed, and mounted Bobby, who was now face-up. He smiled, and quietly asked, "Baby, is that you?" I smiled back, though he couldn't see this. His eyes were still closed.

"No, baby," I responded. His eyes immediately shot open in fear, and I began squeezing his neck with my bare hands. He was trying to choke out my name, so I squeezed harder. He was a resilient bastard. It took three minutes for him to die; all the while he was punching and clawing at me.

I slipped my knife out of my pocket, and claimed my crimson prize. After securing both my knife and the heart in my coat, I carved his numbers onto him, and then I made my way to visit Sein, who would meet the same, exact fate.

What I did next was just for my own entertainment.

A/N: One of the creepiest things ever is, while in the midst of writing a Silent Hill fanfic, walking home at night while everything is quiet and the streets feel abandoned. Especially when my neighborhood is rarely that quiet.


	4. Chapter 3: Trail of Heartless Bodies

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of my alarm clock. I had it set to play the radio, as opposed to that irritating beeping noise. It was on an AM news station. I groggily reached over to switch it to an FM music channel, but the reporter lady stopped me from doing so.

"And, in other news, two male bodies were discovered on the Pleasant River University campus this morning," came the sultry voice. I smiled as she continued, "They were found by a junior who was on the way to her morning classes. The victims have been identified as Robert Randolph and Sein Martin, both of whom were twenty-four-years-old and graduates of PRU. Their hearts were cut out of their bodies. You may remember that the body of a Priest, James Stone, was found yesterday morning near the town of Silent Hill, with his heart cut out in a similar fashion. The only difference between these two cases is the cause of death. Randolph and Martin were strangled. Randolph's windpipe was crushed in the process. Father Stone had a massive gunshot wound to the back of his head. Investigators suspect that Martin and Randolph were murdered in their home, and then dumped on the campus grounds late last night. Police are still speculating as to whether these two cases are related. No further details of these gruesome killings are being released while the killer is still at large."

I was thoroughly pleased with myself. My work was even good enough to make the news. _They left out their numbers_, I thought to myself. With that, I smiled and started to get ready for work.

I just stood in the shower, and let the hot water roll down my bare back as steam built up around me. I had my hands against the wall in front of me, and was leaning forward. I was relaxed and calmer than I had ever been. I wanted to relax after the hectic two nights I'd had. I stood up and straightened my back, and rubbed my face with both hands. I yawned, and then snapped myself out of my dream-like state. I finished washing up, dried myself off, and got dressed.

When I got to work, Rick's eyes were glued to the little TV he kept on the front checkout counter. He didn't even look up to greet me when the bell jingled as I opened the door and walked in.

"What are you watching?" I asked him. I was genuinely curious.

"Shhh! I'm watching the news. You hear about those three murders? How sick does someone have to be to not only murder someone, but cut out their heart afterward? That is some messed up shit!"

I was glad that he was staring at the little picture box. He didn't see me cringe at being called "sick." That was the very reason why, even if I had friends, I wouldn't be able to tell a soul. Nobody would understand. Especially not people like Bobby, Sein, and Rick, who each had a good childhood, with _both_ of their parents at their side.

As I rang up customers throughout my shift, I kept one ear opened to the TV. It seemed I caused such a sensation that my work was the focus of almost the entire broadcast. They were mostly just repeating themselves, and talking to various psychologists and forensics experts. However, before I left the store, the anchorman added something new to the mix.

"OK, we are now being told that a black pickup truck was found parked by the Pleasant River University campus near the area where the bodies of Robert Randolph and Sein Martin were found. This truck has been confirmed as Sein Martin's vehicle. Also, fingerprints other than Martin's were found on the steering wheel, as were strands of long, dirty blond or light red colored hair on the headrest of the driver's seat. Work is now being done to find out just who those prints and hair strands belong to."

I smirked at the TV. _It took them long enough to find the truck_, I thought to myself. I left the store and went back to my apartment.

Three hours passed, and I was getting ready to continue my work. My pistol was jammed somehow, so I opted to just take a submachine gun that I had acquired from a specialty arms shop. I could still hide it well underneath my coat. I didn't want to waste time trying to fix the pistol at that time, and decided to leave it to fix later.

My fourth Sacrament would be closing his pet store early, so I needed to get there quickly. I snuck in through the back of Garland's Pampered Pets, and waited for the owner, Steve Garland, to close up. The gates on the store were remote operated, so Garland usually closed them while he was still inside, finishing up his work. I studied this habit for three weeks. And he always closed up early on Mondays. At 6PM, like clockwork.

He closed the gate, so no customers could enter or look in, and went about his work of cleaning the cages and such. I pulled down the blind on the little window of the back door, and then walked out into the main area of the store.

Garland heard the sound of my boots and spun around to face me. He seemed more like he was angry than anything else.

"Didn't you hear me announce that the store was closing? Ugh! Now I have to grab the remote and let you out."

"That won't be necessary," I said, removing my gun from my coat. To my extreme satisfaction, his expression shifted quickly to pure terror.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice quivering. "What do you want?"

I didn't answer. Instead, I opened fire. I pumped at least thirty rounds into him, all the while being very careful not to let any of them hit his chest. I didn't want his death to be in vain.

I stored the gun back in my coat, and then went to work to collect my treasure. It was perfect. Not a single bullet hole. After I retrieved his heart, I carved his number into him. _04/21_. As I got up to leave, however, I looked around me and noticed all of the animals that Steve Garland cared for when he was alive. I knew how it felt to be alone, with nobody to care for you. I felt sad for these creatures. So, I decided I should dispose of them, as well, so that they may never feel how I had felt all my life. Besides, _I_ was going to be with my mother again. Their caretaker was lost and gone to them forever. I disposed of them quickly, leaving a massive pool of blood on the floor. Before I left through the back door, I noticed that I was trailing some bloody footprints. I wiped the blood off of my boots as best I could, and then made my way over to my next heart. The boots were new and I didn't want to ruin them already.

It was a three block walk from the pet store to Ashfield Sporting Goods. The door was locked, and I saw Rick straightening up before he would leave. I knocked on the glass door. He looked up at me, confused. Once he realized it was me, he came over and let me in.

"What's the matter, Sullivan? Leave something behind?"

I walked in and said, "Yes. I left something behind the counter."

Rick went behind the counter and began to search. The gates, unlike those of the pet store, were up and, therefore, I knew that the sound of the gun would not be nearly as stifled. I calmly walked over to the golfing section and grabbed a club. I knew that this would be risky because someone could simply look through the window and I would be caught. My only chance was to do the deed while Rick was still kneeling behind the counter.

I walked into the register area, and Rick turned his eyes to me. "Heh. You didn't even tell me what you left here." His eyes then wandered to the golf club I was holding. I had the head suspended an inch over the floor and was moving it in a slow, small, circular motion. "Sullivan, will you put that away? C'mon! How did I get stuck looking for _your_ shit?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a woman walking past the store, talking and laughing on her cell phone. I ducked down and pretended to help Rick look for my mythical possession. I stood up a moment later, and I saw that the woman had passed the store and, most likely, didn't see me. Knowing that I may not get the chance again, without warning, I swung the club and broke Rick's skull open. I kept beating him with it until I was sure that he was bludgeoned well enough. I took his heart, carved his number, and stood up to leave. I glanced down at my coat. Through the tiny bit of moonlight and street lamplight flowing in, I saw that I had gotten mass amounts of Rick's blood on me. Getting back to my apartment wouldn't be easy.

I heard a woman scream, which broke me out of my stare. I made sure to keep my face covered by my hair as I glanced up. Through my long strands, I saw that it was the same woman that passed by a moment earlier. At that moment, I realized that there was a bus stop right in front of the store. I quickly gathered that she was most likely waiting for the bus, and pacing back-and-forth, while talking on her phone, to kill time.

How demonic I must have looked to her. My narrowed eyes, which were aimed right at her, were the only facial features visible from under my long, stringy hair. I was hunched over slightly, and blood covered my coat. In my right hand, I held the ritual knife. In the left, I held the still heart of Rick Albert. Both were dripping heavily with blood.

She frantically hung up with whomever she was talking to, and I knew what the next three digits were that she would dial. I needed to get out of there. I knew that she couldn't give a detailed description of me, but I also knew that the police would be there as rapid as could be once they heard that she saw a man covered in blood and holding a heart.

I bolted to the back room. There was no door there, but there was a window in the bathroom off to the side. I ran in and used the back of the knife to break it open. The window had always been stuck shut, and I had no time to waste in trying to wedge it open, now. I slipped the heart in the box, and I climbed out of the window. I was grateful that my coat was so thick and protected me from the glass shards.

As I ran down the back alleys, I heard the sound of the sirens. _Quick_, I thought, _but not nearly quick enough._

I had never been more happy to see that decrepit recliner in my life.

A/N: That little shower scene was totally written as fan-service for the lady readers ;).


	5. Chapter 4: Solitude Before the Strike

I stayed in my apartment over the next ten days. I needed the heat to cool off before attempting to continue my work. That night was a wake-up call. It was too close for comfort, how close I came to being captured. I knew that I shouldn't have pushed to acquire two in the same night. I couldn't get arrested. I still needed five more hearts. I still needed my Title Sacraments.

I decided to limit my collection. I would not repeat my actions from the last night that I had performed my ritual. I would only focus on one Sacrament at a time, unless an opportunity for more presented itself readily.

I only left my apartment when absolutely necessary. When I did, I put my hair up underneath a baseball cap. I wore an old windbreaker as opposed to my bloodstained trench coat, which I was in the process of trying to clean in my bathtub. It's not that I minded the stain, because I didn't. It was more that the blood might as well have been in the shape of a bull's eye for the police.

While lounging around in my apartment, I felt depressed. This was not just a snag in my mission. This was more time I would be away from my mother. The waiting was _killing_ me. And I hadn't been to see her in years. Every time I tried, one of the disgusting, insane tenants would cause a scene. Richard Braintree. I hated him. And I intended to show him just how much. But that would have to wait. He would be a title, and not just one of my numbers.

Periodically, I would turn on the news stations to hear what they were saying about me. In mid-afternoon, they released the tape of the woman's call to the cops. She sounded more distraught than I had ever heard anyone before. For reasons I can neither explain nor understand, this just made me more depressed. Maybe it was the way she talked about me as though I were a monster? _These people could never understand_, I sadly thought to myself. I shut the TV off and took a nap.

I woke up again at around 5PM. I turned the TV on again, only to see that I was still their top story. I was getting bored with hearing about myself. However, a "sketch of the suspect" was shown, which changed my mood around completely.

"Police say that they are looking for this man. He is about six feet tall, has long, red hair, and is hunched over. He was last seen wearing a yellow trench coat, with blood stains on the front. He is armed and very dangerous. If you see this man, do not attempt to approach him. Just find a safe place and call the police."

My eyes started to water with happiness. Other than the fact that my hair was long, it looked nothing like me. I was safe. At least for the time being. With a sudden, newfound burst of energy, I shot up and off the sofa, and continued to wash my coat. Due to the coat being brown in color, I didn't need to wash the blood off completely. Most of it would just blend in with the fabric after a long soak and wash.

I sequestered myself for ten days. There would not be an eleventh. In my depression, I never so much as attempted to fix my jammed pistol, and I knew that I would have a much harder time concealing the submachine gun, considering the fact that anyone who saw me would still be watching suspiciously. Instead, I just grabbed the knife and my heart box and made my way to my sixth Sacrament.

I travelled back to the Wish House, where I was certain that I would find him. There was a small apartment complex on the grounds where the Priests lived. I knocked on his door and, sure enough, Father Rosten was in his living quarters. "Ah, Walter! Come in."

I sat down on his sofa and looked about me. I couldn't use my knife. At least not to do the deed. I had managed to have the element of surprise in all of the other cases, and I was not looking for a struggle now. But, alas, there was nothing substantial that I could use to slay him.

My eyes followed him as he walked around his small, somewhat gloomy apartment. After inviting me inside, he hardly paid attention to me. He would occasionally mumble to himself, as though he were trying to remember every specific step that went into brewing a pot of coffee. Once he had poured the dark elixir, and fixed it to his liking, he sat down on a chair directly across from me. I was having slight déjà vu from his visit before my birthday.

"Now, Walter... Oh! Wait, where _are_ my manners? Would you like a cup?" I shook my head and motioned with my hand that I was fine as I was. "Very well. Now, Walter, you've caused quite the sensation. Every time I'm near a radio, I hear about your work. I am impressed at how well you have managed thus far. Now, what brings you here?" I slouched on the sofa, and looked at the Priest. Although he was being remarkably polite and nice now, I still remembered the way that he used to be. He was the right-hand man of The Red Priest. Not as malicious or cold as he, but Father Rosten had straddled that line a few times in my stay at the Wish House. And he exhibited some of that ability to walk the line even now. He showed no remorse for Stone. He greeted me, the Red Priest's killer, with a smile and a cup of coffee. It was almost unsettling.

I knew that I had to get him out of his comfort zone. I needed to get him outside. "I've come to ask your permission to tour the grounds. I think it will be soothing for my soul before I continue my work. And, if you would, please tour them with me. I feel we have much to discuss."

He finished his coffee, and we made our way to the main grounds, which held the Wish House. It had been closed down for some time, and was only a shadow of its former self. There was wear, tear, erosion, and thick moss at several places on the outer walls. I had not stepped into this building for nearly a decade, yet the pit of my stomach was awash in that deep, penetrating feeling of fear and of loneliness. For a moment, I was every bit the child that Dahlia Gillespie had found here all those years ago.

He made his way to the side of the Wish House and stopped. He kept his back to me, and inhaled deeply. I looked around and noticed that he had taken me to the most secluded area on the grounds. Away from the road. Away from a nearby hiking trail. Everything was still and silent, save for the occasional breeze. He knew what I was capable of. He knew about my mission. He was the one who had instructed me in the Sacraments. Why would he take me here, far away from any chances of escape? Like an animal sensing danger, my senses heightened, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Perhaps he knew why I had come and was thinking of taking me out before I could strike.

"Beautiful night, isn't it Walter?" I had wound myself up so much in preparation for an assault that I jumped slightly when he broke the silence. "Yes, Father. It is." He turned to face me, very slowly. He had a calm and friendly smile on his face.

"Relax, Walter. I know why you are here."

"You do, Father?"

"Of course. Even before you killed Stone, I knew that I would be on your list eventually."

I eyed him with caution. _If you knew I was here to kill you, why help me?_ I thought. He seemed to have read my mind, and cackled loudly. "Walter, Walter. It would only be logical." I growled. "Stop wasting my time, Rosten." He gave a short, "hm," sound and continued to calmly smile. I sighed. "Explain yourself, then."

"Very well. I _do_ believe that we have much to discuss before my death. Firstly, I've come to terms with it. I am, with all of my heart, dedicated to the same cause you are. So much so, that I will gladly give my heart to resurrect the Holy Mother. The only remorse I feel is that I will not see it with my own eyes." He paused, then looked about him. He scratched the back of his head before looking me in the eye and continuing.

"Next, I fear that I have not covered all of the bases so to speak. Tell me, young Sullivan, after you have your ten hearts, what happens then?" My eyebrows furrowed of their own accord, it seemed. "Then I begin with the eleven titles, Father." Rosten grinned. "Ah, yes, but do you remember what the Eleventh Title _is_?" I thought for a moment. Was this supposed to be a trick question? Of course I knew. By rote. "The Eleventh Title is _Assumption_. Why?"

"I was remiss in explaining this to you when you were a child. In the religious sense, _Assumption_ is the entrance of a person into Heaven. Body, soul, everything. Your Mother, being dormant and trapped within the confines of 302, cannot make this purifying journey. However, you can, Walter. You are the flesh and blood of your Mother. And this will set her soul free, preparing you both for the resurrection."

Now I _was_ confused. Why did he keep this all from me until _now_? And what did it mean? I had, wrongfully, thought that to fulfill this Sacrament, my target would have to be the person who would try to assume power after both Stone and Rosten were disposed of. I must have been wearing my perplexity on my face, for he continued with an explanation after a long pause.

"Walter. In order to be truly complete... In order for your soul to be truly purified and that of your Mother's to be released from its current restraints... You, Walter, must die."

I backed up in shock and instinctively picked up an iron pipe that had dislodged from the Wish House due to decay. Rosten, although not smiling any longer, kept his calm demeanor. "I told you to relax, Walter. _I_ will not be the vehicle of your demise. That duty, as they all do, rests with you." "I have to kill myself!?" I yelped. "Yes, Walter. But after your ten hearts are collected. Now, if you please, claim your sixth." There were so many questions swimming through my mind. So many emotions coursing through my very core.

"No. Not yet. I have a couple more questions for you."

"If you insist."

"How will I be able to continue with the Sacraments if I'm dead?"

"You've gone this long on blind faith, young Sullivan. Surely you can continue in this way."

"NO! Tell me, NOW! Or I go elsewhere and deny you the honor."

Rosten lost a shred of his composure and looked like a boy on a schoolyard that had just gotten his lunch money stolen.

"When you were just a boy, very shortly after Ms. Gillespie came to take you to see your Mother... I performed a ritual on you. With the very knife that you have concealed in your pocket. You _did_ take your knife from the alter on the night that Stone died, correct?"

I knew, at the moment that I saw the knife on that night, that it was very familiar. Yet, I still didn't know why I should recognize it. I nodded, and allowed him to continue.

"I'm not surprised that you don't remember. I've often heard that some people can and do repress traumatic memories so that they never can be retrieved again. That is a ceremonial blade. I used it to cut your arm open, and allow Valtiel, himself, to physically enter your body. You were screaming and crying. After Valtiel was fully synthesized within you, you were writhing, and speaking in a deep, demonic voice. In Latin. A corporeal specter of Valtiel then left your body, and returned to his world. And when you stopped moving, you were put back in your bed."

_That was real_, I thought to myself. _I hadn't been dreaming it_. My grip on the iron pipe tightened in anger.

"Valtiel, our Patron Deity, as you well know, is the _Deity of Rebirth_, and protector of the Holy Mother. He will bring you back to the living to finish what you started. Now, I believe you had another question, unless, of course, I just answered it?"

"No. My second question is, how were you so sure that I would come back? To kill you? Or at all?"

"That is a much less complicated question to answer. You went through a lot of torment here, at the Wish House. Those wounds do not heal over night, if they do at all. And you are still young. You have not lived enough to let go of that pain. You hated Jimmy Stone. He treated you even worse than the other children did. It's only natural that you should despise all of the adults that let you go through everything that you did. As I am one of those, I expected that you would be back for us both. You just confirmed my strong inclination in making Stone your first Sacrament. Now, if that will be all..."

I didn't let him finish his sentence. I swung the iron pipe as hard as I could, striking him in the jaw. I heard the crunching of bone under the iron. He wailed in pain as he flew onto the ground. He was sobbing, trying to speak. His jaw was practically disintegrated on one side, and he was coughing out blood. "Hlease, Alter, kill nee. Don't nake nee suher!" _Don't make you suffer!?_ I thought. I kicked him in the stomach with every ounce of force I could muster. He exhaled in pain and continued to sob and attempt to plea. I started swinging the pipe, at random areas, cracking his lower ribs and breaking several other bones before I gave him the coup de grâce to his skull.

A/N: According to the canonical "21 Sacraments," Walter collects "ten hearts in as many days." Obviously, I have little chunks of time in between. I find that it would be more realistic if he waited, considering the amount of heat he would/is be attracting, as Walter states in the beginning of the chapter.

Also, I refer to Valtiel as "he," despite there being no definite gender specification for the deity. Considering that his body has more masculine traits, as well as (*cough* Team Silent's laziness and recycling character models *cough*) his character model being, well, Pyramid Head without the Pyramid helmet, I just decided to use male pronouns for 'im. Because Pyramid Head is widely referred to as "he," himself (See? Lol)

Also, sorry for taking so long to update. I was one of the areas badly hit by Hurricane Sandy. That, coupled with a lot of shit happening in my life right now makes for me not even thinking about this.


End file.
